The Night He Hurt Me
by MrSuperZebra
Summary: KennyxKyle. Rape. References to alcohol, drugs. Kenny beats Kyle too ;A; There's a reason why it's M people...


**Wrote this last night. I have no idea how I got inspired; my sister (who is Kyle- I'm Kenny) and I were just hanging out, and I was being stupid. Then she said I was drunk, and I tried to be a stupid drunk and she was like, "No, Kenny is a violent drunk." Instead of punching her (which I totally should have done |D), I wrote this.**

**There's alcohol, drugs, rape, and beating. Plus cussing. There is a reason this is rated M, people!**

**R&R. But no flames, only constructive criticism. I don't much care to hear how much I suck.**

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**I look at the clock- it is already 3:38 am. I wonder aloud where he is. He said he was going to the bar with his brother. He promised not to drink too much and to be home by one. I start pacing around the room, waiting. It starts to rain. I try to play Call of Duty. I die within the first few seconds. I try to make macaroni and cheese. I over-boil the noodles. It's 5:23 now. The sun is coming up. I yawn. I decide to sleep on the couch until he gets home.

The door slams open. I run into the front hall.

Kenny storms in.

He smells of vodka and vomit. I start to yell at him for being late. I never yell. I hope he gets the message. I cry and hug him.

He pushes me against the wall and kisses me violently. I taste alcohol and I know I'm in trouble.

He starts to unbutton my pants. I push him away and tell him not when he's drunk. He comes back at me and rips off my shirt. I make a run for it while he's trying to take off his. I head toward the bathroom. I could sleep on the floor until he goes to sleep, and then bunk in the guest bedroom.

He's faster than me.

He's always been faster than me. He catches me and we fall on the floor, him on top of me. He calls me a whore and punches me. I feel blood coming from my nose. I can feel that there's going to be a black eye. He's undoing his jeans and I crawl away again. He crawls after me, his jeans around his knees. The tight underwear he's wearing show off every curve of his erection.

I know I'm going to get it.

He slams my head against the wall. I taste blood; I think I bit my tongue. I start to sob uncontrollably. I wonder if I'm a masochist for running away. I decide no; if I was I would like this.

He pulls off my jeans and underwear, and then his. He pulls on my hair to control how my head moves. He makes me sit. He forces his penis into my mouth and pulls my hair, telling my how fast and how deep to go. My nose is bleeding profusely and I'm sobbing. He slaps me and tells me to stop being a fucking crybaby. The tears come faster, but I manage to suppress the sobs. My common sense tells me to bite down on his dick hard enough and it will all stop. My heart tells me know. Even after this, my heart says I still love him, forever and always.

Like we promised.

His grip on my hair grows tighter as he comes close to the edge. I wonder if he'll make it, or if he'll go overboard before he penetrates me.

No such luck.

He stands me up and presses me against the wall. He doesn't have any lube that I know of, and if he did, I don't think he would use it. I remember the time we tried to do it on the beach without lube.

I'm afraid of the pain.

He sticks his erection in me. He grabs onto my hair and my back as try to find something, anything, to grab onto. The pain of not using lubricant must not bother me as much as it bothers him.

I'm sobbing again. He smacks the back of my head and my face hits the wall. My nose is bleeding again. He does this twice more before he gives up, it's no use, I can't stop sobbing anymore.

I think the pain in my heart hurts more than anything else.

I can tell it's almost over. He thrusts aren't as rhythmatic and his nails are digging deeper into my skin.

He comes.

His nails scratch down my back and he pulls out. There's white fluid dripping from me. He usually cleans it up with his tongue, and finishes me off if I'm not already done. This time he just hits my head again and drunkenly walks to our room. I hear the drawers open and close, then the bed squeak under his weight. I sit down and silently sob. I hear him softly snore, and I decide to get up and clean myself up.

I have a black eye.

There's dried and fresh blood all over my face: from my nose, my mouth, and from a cut on my forehead I don't remember getting.

There are scratches all up and down my back, as if Wolverine attacked me.

My scalp hurts.

Most of the right side of my body is a developing bruise.

There's a white liquid dripping out of me.

My orifices are sore.

It makes it hard to clean out his cum.

I shower, and I end up sitting down, sobbing again, and wondering why it happened. I fall asleep sobbing in the shower.

I wake up about an hour later, the shower had run cold. I had dreamt about Kenny's demons in hell. For the first time, I find myself wishing he died.

I put on my towel and lock myself in the guest bedroom before he wakes up. I wait in there until I hear his car pull out.

I pack my bags.


End file.
